Valentines
by PepperF
Summary: Season One, AU, SamJack. 'It was all his fault, with his casual attitude and his 'Sam' and his teasing and his warm brown eyes…'
1. Intruder Alert

It was strange. It was odd. It was out of place. It was unexpected. It was... in the middle of her bench. Captain Sam Carter stared at the intruder, her first feeling one of surprise. She reached out a finger to touch it. It fell over. 

Hmm.

Gingerly, as though she should be wearing protective goggles, gloves, and one of those suits that made her look like a blimp, she reached out and picked up the item that had appeared – somehow – on her bench. Instinctively, her scientific mind started to categorize it. Brightly-colored, glossy – it didn't look very advanced. If anything it was distinctly old-fashioned. More Daniel's area of expertise than her own, perhaps. The glyphs on the front were easy to decipher, however, requiring none of Doctor Jackson's professional expertise. She read aloud:

"'I Choo-Choo-Choose You'?"

Underneath was a picture of a train. Her second feeling was 'awww'. It was the sort of card she'd used to exchange when she was a kid, before puberty and hormones and car accidents and Air Force Academy... Way back when she was young and innocent.

Double hmm.

She opened up the card. Inside, there was a picture of a yellow person whom she recognized as being a character from the Simpson's – but she didn't know the name. He was waving one four-fingered yellow hand and smiling cheerfully and idiotically. There was a message, carefully printed in capital letters so as to remain anonymous.

"HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY TO THE SGC'S OWN LISA SIMPSON."

Huh?

Her third impression (after 'surprise' and 'awww') was 'tacky'.

Daniel, when he wandered in a few hours later, spotted the card almost instantly. "Aha! Secret admirer?"

Sam glanced up from her microscope. "Oh, hey Daniel. Yeah, anonymous, too – clichéd or what?" Daniel read the brief message inside the card, and a frown crossed his forehead, followed by a smirk. Sam watched him. "You know who it is?"

Daniel looked up, innocently. "Me? No. No, I don't know who sent it. I bet it was on your desk when you came in, right?"

"Yeah, I popped out to grab a coffee, and when I came back..." She narrowed her eyes. He looked a bit _too_ innocent. "Come on," she demanded. "'Fess up. Who is it?"

"Honestly, Sam, I don't know. It could be any one of your vast fan club."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, right," she said, cynically. Daniel kept insisted that half the SGC was in love with her. It was his way of teasing her – much like her brother used to do.

"No, really! Hey, maybe it's Simmons?"

Sam grimaced. "Geez, I hope not." She really, really didn't want to encourage the youthful Lieutenant by keeping the card on display. "Should I chuck it?" She'd found herself strangely reluctant to throw the card away, despite its tackiness and despite her low opinion of all things Valentine. That could be because it was the only one she'd got this year, of course.

"Chuck what?"

She glanced up. The Colonel was doing his daily we're-on-Earth-so-I'll-drop-by-and-see-what-Carter-has-that-I-can-play-with-and-maybe-break visit, apparently. "Oh, I got a Valentine's card," she chuckled. "Very... tacky. Simpson's, of all things. I mean, who'd send me a Simpson's Valentine's card?"

Daniel and the Colonel shared a glance. "Think yourself lucky," grumbled the Colonel. "I didn't get any."

"Oh, men don't get Valentine's cards," she dismissed, instantly. "And they don't care when they do get them. Men just aren't interested in that sort of thing." Something she'd experienced with Jonas on more than one occasion – he'd been completely dismissive of every romantic moment she'd tried to engineer with him.

Both Daniel and the Colonel, though, looked put out. "That's so not true!" exclaimed Daniel. "I remember when Sha're-" he broke off abruptly. "I mean – some men aren't – I wasn't... I've got a thing I have to do – I'll see you both later."

"Daniel-" But he had fled, ignoring her when she called after him. She looked at the Colonel, wincing. "Damn. I didn't mean to... Poor Daniel."

The Colonel shrugged. "Yeah," he said, looking at his boots.

"D'you think I should go after him?"

"Nah. He probably just wants to be left alone at the moment." There was silence for a moment, and he wandered forwards and picked up her card, reading it. "I see what you mean about tacky," was his conclusion. Bizarrely, she felt the urge to defend her lone card.

"I think it's kinda sweet."

The Colonel looked up, his expression inscrutable. "Sweet?" He sounded incredulous.

"Well, it's... cute."

"Cute? Huh." He put the card down carefully.

"The only thing I don't get is what they mean by 'the SGC's own Lisa Simpson'," she said, thoughtfully. "I've never really watched the show."

The Colonel looked sideways at her. "She's the brains of the operation," he explained, quietly. "A smart person in a stupid world. Meant for great things. Destined to be the first woman President or something. Her family don't quite get her, but they love her anyway."

"Oh..." She looked at the card. That explained it, then. That was... definitely kinda sweet. Thank goodness the Colonel knew stuff about the Simpson's, and could explain it to her. Sounded like he was a fan of the show, in fact.

She frowned. Hang on...

She looked up to where the Colonel had been. She looked down at the card. Up at her empty doorway. Down at the card again.

Oh.

_Oh._

Well.

With a strange feeling of... of something-or-other, she went back to work. And never did get around to throwing the card away.


	2. Sweet, Cute, Tacky

He hadn't meant to buy the card. He really hadn't. Hadn't even thought about the fact that Valentines Day was coming up, and all that entailed – after all, he wasn't with anyone, so he didn't have to worry about all that crap. But he was in the store, and saw the card, and remembered the episode – man, that was a funny one – and on impulse he bought it. Then, of course, he had to decide to whom he should give it. Feeling a little stupid, he considered his options. Well, there was one obvious candidate. 

It seemed appropriate, too. It had struck him on more than one occasion that she was a bit like Lisa Simpson. Brains, wit, charm, loyalty – a bit of a geek. Okay, a _lot_ of a geek. And although he liked to think of himself as Bart – rebel without a cause, smart-assed, bad boy charm, etc – in truth, he sometimes felt a little like Ralph Wiggum around her. ("Miss? I've eaten my paste.") The Stupid One. The one people talked to just... a little slower. With easier words.

So, anyhow, he wrote a quick message, did a bit of reconnaissance, and when he knew she was in the Commissary getting coffee he dropped by her lab and – ever so casually, concealing what he was doing from the cameras (because, although not really regulation-breaking, it wasn't exactly something he wanted Hammond knowing about, either) – left the card on her desk.

A while later he strolled by her lab again to check out her reac... to see if she and Daniel (who hadn't been in his office) wanted to go get lunch or something. He froze in the doorway at her words.

"Should I chuck it?"

_Chuck_ it? Well, damn... "Chuck what?" he said, with just the right amount of disinterest in his voice. He ignored Daniel's sharp look. Daniel had lived with him for six weeks. He'd seen the DVD collection. He'd probably guessed instantly who the card was from.

"Oh, I got a Valentines card," replied Carter, chuckling as though it was an unlikely event, when in truth he was surprised she hadn't got hundreds. Honestly, half the SGC drooled over her every time she went past. "Very... tacky." Hey – ouch! "Simpson's, of all things. I mean, who'd send me a Simpson's Valentine's card?"

He couldn't help glancing at Daniel. Daniel looked right back at him. He sent the man a mental warning. 'Tell her and I'll break your arm in three places.' "Think yourself lucky," he said, diverting the conversation from the 'who' question. "I didn't get any."

"Oh, men don't get Valentine's cards." Well, she was pretty dismissive of that idea. "And they don't care when they do get them. Men just aren't interested in that sort of thing." Obviously she'd been hanging around with the wrong sort of men. Who was the one going around buying secret Valentine's cards here, huh? It's not like there'd been anything on _his_ desk. No secret admirer cards, no flowers, no chocolates – oh no. And yet she had the nerve to imply that it was men who weren't romantic!

Daniel seemed equally offended. "That's so not true! I remember when Sha're-" he broke off, and the Colonel winced internally. "I mean – some men aren't – I wasn't... I've got a thing I have to do – I'll see you both later."

Daniel fled, despite Carter calling after him. She looked at the Colonel. "Damn. I didn't mean to... Poor Daniel."

He shrugged, examining his boots. "Yeah." Poor Daniel.

"D'you think I should go after him?" asked Carter. He shook his head.

"Nah. He probably just wants to be left alone at the moment." It was tough for his favorite archaeologist. Nearly six months later, and they still didn't know the fate of his wife. It didn't look good. Poor Spacemonkey. And he felt in some way guilty – which was ridiculous, but he'd promised Daniel that they'd get her back, and so far... He wandered over to her bench and picked up the card, grimacing internally. What had he been thinking? Buying a Valentines card for Sam Carter – Sam 'Just because my reproductive organs are on the inside instead of the outside' Carter. Of _course_ she'd hate it. "I see what you mean about tacky."

She frowned at him. What? She'd said it. "I think it's kinda sweet."

What? What? She was defending it now? Women! And... "Sweet?" Please don't let her say...

"Well, it's... cute."

"Cute?" He had to keep the offended tone out of his voice, or it'd totally give him away. Damn, though – he guessed it had been a kinda sweet, cute thing to do. He had to remember not to do that in future, or his reputation as a bad boy would be totally shot. "Huh." Great. Sweet, cute, and tacky – just how he wanted to be described.

"The only thing I don't get is what they mean by 'the SGC's own Lisa Simpson'. I've never really watched the show."

Well, there was a cry for help. Obviously she needed educating. "She's the brains of the operation," he explained. "A smart person in a stupid world. Meant for great things. Destined to be the first woman President or something. Her family don't quite get her, but they love her anyway."

Huh. Maybe he'd spent a little too much time on this comparison thing.

"Oh."

Damn. Damn damn damn. Suddenly realizing that he'd probably totally given himself away, he took advantage of her distraction and slipped out the door. He kicked himself all the way back to the safety of his office. He just knew she'd take offence – would she consider this harassment by a superior officer? Things would be really awkward the next time he saw her. He'd just have to deny everything – claim ignorance – change the subject – anything but admit it.

What had he been _thinking_?


	3. Days Of Wine And Roses

The Colonel had lunch alone, and then spent the afternoon hiding out in his office under the pretence of getting some work done. In reality, he was avoiding Sam Carter. God, he'd just completely embarrassed himself. And to think he'd thought – age fifteen, desperately trying to work out how to ask Maria Hallis if she'd like to go out sometime – that someday all that would be beyond him, and that he would know how to interact with women. Ha! Well, that was another beautiful theory shot down. 

Okay, maybe the problem here was that this was the first time he'd actually treated her like a woman. Even in situations where it was painfully obvious that that's what she was – blue dresses and cavemen viruses sprang to mind – he'd teased her as much as he would any other member of his team. Okay, maybe he wouldn't tease Teal'c... And it wasn't like he hadn't noticed she was a woman. Oh no. He could hardly do that – he wasn't _blind_. But she'd walked in with such a huge chip on her shoulder, that he'd been extra careful to give her exactly the same treatment as anyone else, including throwing her through the Stargate that first time. He'd felt it a matter of personal honour to prove to her that her assumptions about him being your average sexist officer were wrong.

He could sort of understand the chip, to be fair. The Air Force was still a bit of a boy's club, and it must have been tough for her, as it was for most women in the armed forces. They had to prove themselves that little bit more than the men. He'd seen it plenty of times. She'd had to cultivate a bit of an attitude in order to survive it – he understood that. He just didn't want her making assumptions.

So when he came back from fetching a cup of coffee to find a huge-ass bunch of flowers on his desk? _So_ totally surprised.

There was no note – of course. Just the flowers. In a vase. He stared at them. They stared back at him (okay, maybe not really). It was a Mexican standoff.

They looked completely out of place within the drab grey walls of the SGC. It was actually pretty pleasant – although also completely weird - to have a splash of colour like that. He was still staring at them when Daniel dropped by.

"Jack, I was just looking at SG-3's report from P4Y 979... and what a lovely bunch of flowers." The Colonel turned to glare at him. Daniel merely raised his eyebrows. "From...?"

"No note."

"Ah. Very... cute." Daniel couldn't stop the huge grin that had fought its way onto his face.

Jack glared some more. "Shut up," he grumbled.

"I just think it's... sweet."

"Was there something you wanted?" he asked, pointedly.

"Oh, just – we need to go back to P4Y 979, or SG-3 does, or whoever, it doesn't really-"

"Daniel..."

"-but someone needs to take another look at the henge they found and didn't investigate properly, because-"

"Daniel..."

"-I have a hunch that there'll be an inscription around the base of the lead stone, as that's where it-"

"Daniel!" The archaeologist stopped. "You think someone needs to go back to P4-whatever?" Daniel nodded.

"Uh, yes, Jack, as I was-"

"Okay. Fine. Great. I'll pass your recommendation along to the General. You know – as in the guy who decides these things?"

"Oh, okay. Thanks. I'll leave you to your," he waved vaguely, "flowers." Daniel wandered out again, and Jack rolled his eyes. How Daniel ever expected to get along with the military was beyond him. He just wasn't in the same universe. "Oh, Jack?"

He looked up at the head poking back around his door. "Yeah?"

"You gonna ask her out? Dinner, maybe?"

Jack's glare made a return appearance. "Who?" he asked, the tone of his voice daring Daniel to answer.

Daniel, of course, was unfazed – due no doubt to the fact that he lived in a far distant universe where little could penetrate. He nodded at the flowers. "Sam, of course."

"I have no idea what you mean," said Jack, shortly.

"Well, but the card was obviously-"

"I. Have. No. Idea. What. You. Mean."

Daniel looked startled. "Okay, Jack, okay, no need to get shirty – I just thought you might be thinking of-"

"Anyhow, even if I wanted to – which is ridiculous – I couldn't ask Sam out." At Daniel's blank look, he sighed. "_She's_ my subordinate," he explained slowly. "_I'm_ her C.O.. _It's_ against regulations."

"Yeah?" Daniel shrugged that off, not overly concerned. Which was one of the main reasons that he and the military just didn't see eye-to-eye. "Well, so what?"

"So _what_? Daniel, will you please just go away!"

The floppy-haired idiot at last got the hint and left him alone. He stared at the flowers again, a vivid mix of pink, red and cream. He vaguely recognised some of them, but wasn't too sure of names – the garden had always been Sara's area of expertise; he just kept the lawn short. Sara never bought him flowers – of course she didn't, who the hell would buy a guy flowers? It was ridiculous. Stupid. A silly gesture.

Grinning. He was definitely grinning. It was pretty much involuntary.

He picked up the phone, and dialled an internal number. "Daniel? You busy this evening? What? Oh, no, I was thinking we should all go out for a team thing, dinner maybe. Yes, all of us. There's that new place, O'Malley's... Cool. No, that's okay – I'll ask the others. Nineteen hundred hours. Seven PM, Daniel. Okay." He hung up, paused for a moment, and then dialled another number. "T? You free this evening? What? No, I meant... I didn't mean free free, I meant I was thinking of doing a little team-bonding thing, going out to dinner, you know. You in? Okay, good. At nineteen hundred." He hung up, paused for a longer time, and then finally dialled one last number. "Sam? Hi. Uh, nothing much, I was just wondering..."


	4. Unprofessional

She'd been kicking herself ever since. What in god's name had possessed her? It was just... impulsive. She did impulsive badly. Impulsive never worked out for her. Impulsive was stupid, and wrong, and potentially got you into all sorts of hot water with your superiors. God, he'd never let her live this down! 

A bright thought occurred to her. He didn't _know_ it was her. Just like she didn't know it was him who left the card. She was pretty damn certain, but she didn't actually _know_. So that was all right, then. She'd covered her tracks thoroughly – special ops had nothing on her when it came to smuggling large bunches of flowers through the SGC. It was a long, involved tale of bribery and corruption and hiding in storage closets, but at least she was sure he'd never have any actual proof.

Argh. What a... damn stupid stunt to pull. And on her new CO, too. It was all his fault, with his casual attitude and his 'Sam' and his teasing and his warm brown eyes... Argh! No, no, no. She should never have done it.

Still, he'd looked kind of... well, she'd thought he was being inscrutable at the time, but now she looked back she was thinking it was more of a hurt-she-doesn't-like-my-card sort of look. She'd called it tacky, right to his face. And cute. It probably wasn't how he wanted the card to be received. It was probably meant as just a... a what? What had he meant? _What_ had he _meant_?

Yeah, she was probably over-analyzing this. Jack O'Neill wasn't one for much introspection. It had probably been just a passing thought on his behalf. So she shouldn't read... well, anything into it.

Damn. Why had she bought him flowers in return?

Her phone rang, startling her. "Carter." It was him. Her stomach did an unpleasant little jig. "Hi, sir, what's up?" What? Dinner? Was he... "Dinner?" Oh. With the _team_. Oh, thank god. "Oh, yeah. No, not got any plans, that'd be great. Yeah, it looks nice there. Yeah, nineteen hundred's fine. Okay, that's great. Yeah. Bye."

Her heart was pounding when she hung up. He'd not said anything about the flowers. Was that a good or a bad thing? If he'd not known they were from her, would he have been more or less likely to mention it? Well, from what she'd observed so far, he probably wouldn't really have mentioned it either way – that just wasn't like him. He didn't like discussing personal things. She guessed that getting a secret Valentine's gift counted as 'personal'.

So. Dinner, eh? What was all that about? Yeah, team bonding, yadda yadda – but what was it really about? Was he thinking that they'd got some kind of... understanding going? Because that was so not the case. An understanding was the last thing she'd call this – this weirdness. If anything, it was a misunderstanding. Two people at cross-purposes. He was... sending her cards, and she was... giving him flowers, but she hadn't meant... and then the dinner... but with the team...

Argh.

Oh, if only Daniel was a girl. And, you know, not inclined to laugh his ass off at her. Anyway, the military thing was completely beyond him – he just couldn't get his head around it. She might tell Teal'c, who understood the strict enforcement of military rules and regulations, but then she'd have to explain the whole Valentine's Day thing, and he'd probably give her that look that said he thought humans were nuts. She really had to cultivate a closer friendship with Doctor Frasier – she seemed like a nice person, pretty understanding, and with a sense of humor. Not that she could tell the doctor that she'd bought her CO flowers, or that her CO had (probably) given her a Valentine's card. Not in a million, bazillion years. She might feel she'd have to report it to Hammond, and then maaaaajor badness would ensue.

Oh, this was all so stupid. What the hell was she worrying about? She was reading too much into it. He'd just bought her a card, as a nice gesture, and in return she'd bought him some flowers. It was all perfectly innocent. It wasn't like they had some secret romance going on. And now the team was going to dinner. Which had nothing to do with anything.

Yeah, right. All perfectly innocent. All harmless fun, right up until the point she was court-martialed for fraternization.

Dammit, no. They were just becoming friends – there was no harm in that, although strictly speaking even that wasn't really encouraged in a military environment. She would just have to remember to keep her respectful distance from now on. Be professional.

Yes, thought Captain Sam Carter, determinedly. From now on, her relationship with Jack O'Neill would be strictly professional.

That should be easy enough, right?

Right?


	5. Etiquette

Teal'c was unfamiliar with many Tau'ri customs. Some had been easy to assimilate, with the assistance of his team-mates and – as he was now coming to think of them – friends. Military custom had been the easiest, for a Jaffa who had spent longer than a Tau'ri lifetime in military service to his (false) god. Social customs were more complex. The Tau'ri society had many rules to govern their behavior that they themselves seemed aware of on a purely instinctual level. Colonel O'Neill had given him a book of etiquette, which he had read, but it seemed that whenever he followed those rules, inevitably someone would give him a look of surprise, as if he were getting it wrong.

He had discussed this apparent discrepancy with Colonel O'Neill, who explained that many of the rules of etiquette were merely guidelines, and that some of them did not apply in a modern and politically correct society. The holding open of doors for females, for instance, might be considered offensive. Or it might not. It all depended on the situation and the female – so said Colonel O'Neill. Or there was the eating of jell-o with a fork, which the book stated was the proper way to do it, but which had been remarked critically upon by both their team-mates when the Colonel did so.

It was indeed confusing.

He had also spoken to Daniel Jackson and Captain Carter about this difficult problem. Daniel Jackson had talked at length about the "evolution of social structure" and the "development of pack behavior" – from which Teal'c had inferred that Daniel Jackson did not himself fully understood the practical application of Tau'ri social skills.

Captain Carter had smiled and told him that he would "pick it up eventually", and that he just needed to spend some time observing how Tau'ri interacted amongst themselves in a social setting. Upon her advice, Teal'c had spent some time in the commissary, observing the Tau'ri at rest. However, he found that doing so appeared to make them nervous. Captain Carter had explained that reaction, too. She said that the act of observation itself changed the subject being observed. She went on to say that she thought his behavior was "just fine".

Teal'c had come to the conclusion that none of his team-mates had any helpful suggestions to give. Perhaps they were socially inept. It seemed a fair assumption to make, given the small amount of time they devoted to their lives outside Cheyenne Mountain. He had not said as much to them, however – feeling proud of the fact that he had at least learnt something.

Now, whenever an opportunity arose to observe Tau'ri in a relaxed atmosphere, he took it eagerly. This was partly to increase his understanding, but also partly because the cold grey walls of the mountain were becoming distinctly over-familiar.

This afternoon, he had received a phonecall from Colonel O'Neill, inviting him to dine at a restaurant in Colorado Springs with the team. He had accepted. At nineteen hundred hours, he met with Colonel O'Neill and Captain Carter and traveled with them to the car park twenty-eight floors above the Stargate. Together they awaited Daniel Jackson. Teal'c observed the others, silently. Both his team-mates were acting strangely – as though they were completely unaware of each others' presence, and at the same time both acutely aware when the other was looking in their direction.

"So, Teal'c, how's the, uh, the kel'no'reeming going?" asked Colonel O'Neill. Teal'c slowly looked at the Colonel. He got the impression that the Colonel might be blushing, but it was hard to tell as the sun had set nearly two hours before, and the light provided by the electric lamps was unhelpful. Teal'c felt a pang of homesickness, remembering the gentle light of torches in the warm Chulakian night. He would have to speak to Daniel Jackson about acquiring some more candles.

"My kel'no'reeming is proceeding as normal, Colonel O'Neill," he replied.

The Colonel nodded. "Good," he said. He sounded distracted. This was probably because Captain Carter was looking oddly at him, and he was pretending to be unaware of it.

There was a pause. Teal'c was not uncomfortable. But it seemed the other two were. They shifted, and shuffled their feet constantly. This was unusual in Captain Carter, certainly. Less so in Colonel O'Neill, who, when not on the field of battle, was prone to constant restless movement. Teal'c began to wonder if something had occurred. "Has something occurred of which I am unaware, Colonel O'Neill?"

Both of them looked in his direction. He noticed that, when their gaze chanced to meet, they both looked away quickly. "What? No. Nothing's happened, Teal'c," said Colonel O'Neill – nervously? Yes, definitely nervously. "Why d'you ask?"

"You are both nervous," explained Teal'c.

Again, their eyes met and slid away. It seemed to be involuntary. "Nervous? Us? We're not nervous. Why would we be nervous?" said Colonel O'Neill, nervously.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Teal'c," added Captain Carter. Nervously.

"Me neither."

"I'm not nervous."

"Nor am I."

"Not at all nervous."

"No."

Teal'c had let his glance swing from one to the other as they nervously bounced the conversation between them. Feeling they had made his point for him, he clasped his hands behind his back, tipped his head back, and regarded the sky calmly. "I see," he said.

There was a nervous silence.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late!" called Daniel Jackson, as he approached.

Teal'c distinctly heard Captain Carter mutter: "Oh, thank god."

Teal'c smiled: for once he was not puzzled by Tau'ri behavior. Some things were universal, it seemed. He was reminded of his own state of chaos when preparing to ask Drey'auc to be his sim'ka. Yes, Tau'ri behavior might be alien – but it was not entirely unfamiliar. 


	6. Four's Company

It occurred to Jack on the drive over that this was the first time they'd all met up outside of work. Oh, they spent a lot of time together at work, of course - increasingly including coffee and lunch times - and he'd lived with Daniel for six long, long weeks, but they'd never all deliberately gotten together until now. Teal'c had only recently been given permission to leave the base, and they'd never gotten around to celebrating it, what with mission rotas and such. Daniel had gone with Teal'c for an initial trip out and about, but that had been about it for the big guy.

O'Malley's was decorated for Valentine's, but not too over-the-top - the ribbons and balloons were kept to a tasteful minimum, Jack was pleased to see. If the steaks were as good as promised, he might have to make this a regular haunt. He glanced at Sam. This was the closest thing to a romantic evening he'd had in years. Damn, he really had to get out more. He sat back and observed his team. They should do this more often, he decided. They weren't a bad bunch - more enjoyable to spend time around than he'd have thought. Yes, he concluded, watching Sam tip her head back and laugh at something Daniel had said, they should definitely do this again.

He suddenly realized the turn of his thoughts, and braced himself for the feelings of guilt. Surprisingly, they weren't as bad as usual. Yes, he was having a good time, and, yes, Charlie was dead - remembering it was still like a knife to the gut, and that would never change. He hadn't forgiven himself and never would, but forgetting was somehow more allowable with his team around him. And he didn't plan to dwell this evening. He leaned forward and picked up his glass.

"Boys and girl," Jack interrupted whatever Daniel had been saying without compunction. "There's a very good reason behind this little outing tonight." Daniel, as subtle as ever, looked at Sam. Jack continued quickly, "I'd like to congratulate T on obtaining his freedom from the Mountain. Would you raise your glasses?" Sam and Daniel grabbed their drinks, as Teal'c looked surprised. "To Teal'c's freedom," he said.

"Teal'c's freedom," chorused Daniel and Sam. Teal'c now looked moved - it was very similar to his 'surprised' expression, but they were learning to read the subtle differences.

"Thank you," he said, putting his closed fist to his chest and bowing his head.

When they got to dessert, Teal'c looked around at the red and pink decorations, and then turned to Daniel. "Explain this Valentine's Day to me," he requested.

Jack rolled his eyes, and Daniel smiled. "It's a tradition which began in the Middle Ages - that's around the twelfth to fifteenth centuries," he explained. "Now perpetuated by card manufacturers, lingerie shops, and florists, of course. It's more properly known as Saint Valentine's Day, named for an early Christian martyr."

"Thanks, Teal'c," groaned Jack. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam grinning at his exaggerated grimace. That distracted him long enough for Daniel to continue his explanation.

"There are various explanations as to why Saint Valentine is associated with love and romance, but the main two are that he either arranged secret weddings for Roman soldiers, or that he was in love with his jailer's daughter, and, before he was martyred, he gave her a note signed 'from your Valentine'. Those stories sprang up hundreds of years after his martyrdom, though, and are probably just made up. No one really knows why that day was chosen, but it's been around so long, now, that the reasons behind it don't really matter any more - it's deeply embedded in our culture, like a - a force of habit."

"Sergeant Siler told me that the gifting of chocolates, flowers and cardboard is part of the mating ritual," said Teal'c, interested.

"That's _cards_, T," said the colonel. "And it's not a - a _mating ritual_, necessarily. It can be just a - a-"

"-Nice gesture," Jack and Sam spoke simultaneously. They looked at one another, and their eyes locked.

"Whatever you say, guys," said Daniel, looking from one to the other, amused.

Teal'c scrutinized the Air Force half of SG-1. Then he turned to Daniel. "Tell me more about Tau'ri mating customs," he requested. "Are they usually as ambiguous as this exchange of Valentine's gifts?"

Daniel met his eyes, saw the teasing glint, and decided that his teammates deserved it. "Well, a good starting point is the giving of gifts," he said. "Chocolates, flowers," he looked at Captain Carter, who blushed vividly, dropped her gaze from her CO, and developed a sudden interest in the last few crumbs of her cake, "and other tokens of esteem. The next stage is generally to ask for a date. That's when the pair go out someplace like a movie, or a museum-"

"Yeah, _you'd_ take a girl to museum on a first date," muttered Jack disparagingly, absent-mindedly peeling the label from his bottle of beer as he watched Sam avoiding his gaze.

Daniel gave a quelling look to the colonel, who ignored him. "Or a restaurant," he said, pointedly. "In more _archaic_ civilizations, this might have involved the use of a chaperone, to make sure there was no funny business. In western culture nowadays, this is usually considered unnecessary."

"I see," said Teal'c. And indeed, he was beginning to see. He looked around them at the restaurant. "And what is the next phase?"

"Well, that's the first date. If it goes well, the second date is usually something more fun. First dates are to create a good impression - show off a bit. The second date is a chance for the couple to enjoy themselves a bit more; to see what each other is like under more relaxed circumstances. Something silly, perhaps, like the zoo, or rollerblading, or-"

"You guys ever been to the crazy golf place in the Springs?" interrupted Jack, uber-casually. Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at him, and he dropped his eyes to his peeled beer bottle. "I hear it's good."

Teal'c exchanged a look with Daniel. "Are you inviting us on a second team-bonding outing, O'Neill?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow in amusement. Jack shrugged.

"I guess. You wanna go?"

Daniel and Teal'c turned as one to look at Sam. She frowned at them both. "What?"

Daniel tipped his head. "Are you sure about this, Jack?"

"Sure about what? It's just a day out," huffed Jack, unconvincingly. "You coming or what? Because I've got kind of a full calendar, and-"

"I'll go," agreed Daniel, hurriedly. Curiosity would be his downfall some day: he had to see where this was going. "Teal'c?"

"I would like to see more of these Tau'ri customs," stated Teal'c.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Jack. He looked at Sam. "Carter? You in?" His tone was brusque, professional even. His eyes... his eyes were anything but. Sam took one look in those eyes, and all her good intentions evaporated, like mist burned away by the sun.

She shrugged nonchalantly, looking at Daniel, Teal'c, the waiter, the bar, the ceiling fan... anywhere but at the Colonel. "Sure, I guess. Sounds like it could be fun."

Jack's grin was sudden and bright. "Sweet!"

There was a pause, as Daniel and Teal'c looked at the other two, Jack looked at Sam, and Sam looked at the table. Sam cleared her throat at last, summoned up her courage, lifted her head and looked around challengingly. Her gaze settled on Daniel. "You seem to be the expert, Daniel. So what happens on the _third_ date?"


	7. The Other Man

Sam wasn't freaking out. No. She wasn't. She really, really, really was not freaking out in any way whatsoever, at all, no sir, because she wasn't, and that was it, that was final, that was the last word on the subject. 

Okay, maybe she was freaking out a little. But just a little. A very little.

Oh god.

Well, who could blame her? It had been totally unexpected – out of the blue. She hadn't seen it coming. She'd just turned a corner, and them – bam – there he was. And she was there. In the same place. At the same time. Together.

Her brain was having trouble processing this. She'd been thinking about it – about _him_ – all morning, the thoughts running around her head in an endless loop, giving her a headache. It was weird, and wrong, and just plain _bad_.

"Carter!" Argh! God _damn_, the colonel walked silently. "You got that DHD fixed yet?"

"Not yet, sir. But then I've only been working on it for five minutes."

The colonel frowned at her, and crossed his arms around his gun. "Something I should know about, Captain?"

"Sir?"

"You've been in a bad mood since we got here."

Damn. She'd been hoping that he hadn't noticed. She gritted her teeth. "Sorry, sir."

He waved his arms irritably. "Pshaw!"

She gave him a look. "Pshaw?"

"Pshaw," he nodded. "Just tell me what the hell's up with you, will ya?"

"I'm fine, sir," she said, trying to sound normal and only succeeding in sounding pissed off.

"Is it anything to do with Hanson?"

Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Why in heaven's name had she told Daniel about her unlamented ex-fiance? Well, despite his apparent inability to keep a secret, Daniel was rapidly becoming her closest confidante, and she'd absolutely had to talk to someone. She'd panicked – absolutely panicked, in a totally uncharacteristic way – when she'd turned an SGC corner last week and walked smack into Jonas. He'd looked embarrassed for a moment, then had given her one of his smiles – one of those knowing smiles that had turned her insides to goo, way back when – and greeted her calmly. Of course, he'd already known she was there. But she'd obviously missed the memo that said, 'Your ex-fiance has been posted to the same command!' She'd mumbled something in greeting, and fled, hating that he'd know she was freaking out. And for the past week she'd been in a state of denial about the amount of time she spent in her lab with the door shut and the little red 'I'm busy, don't come in or things might explode' light on. When she absolutely had to go through the corridors, only her pride had forced her not to skulk like a madwoman.

"Hanson, sir?" Maybe Daniel hadn't told him everything.

The colonel rolled his eyes. "You've been acting weird all week. Daniel finally let me in on your little secret after I saw you ducking into a supply closet on Level 14 – and it was lucky he did, 'cause I thought you were going nuts. Is it really that bad, having your ex on base?"

She groaned, and covered her face with her hands. "Yes, sir, it really is. Now would you please leave me alone so I can get on and fix the DHD and we can all go home and I can go back to hiding in closets again?"

"No," he said, firmly. He scrutinized the surrounding area, hefted his gun to a more comfortable position, and plunked himself down with his back to the DHD. "You multitask like nobody's business, so get on and fix that, and tell me about Hanson." When she lowered her hands and gave him a glare, he looked blandly back at her. "The mental health of my team is of paramount importance to me."

Damn him, too. Sam turned back to the DHD. It was easier to talk to him when she wasn't looking at him – that way she could almost forget who he was, and who she was, and all the complications between them. "We didn't have an easy break-up," she said, tersely. "It was a shock to run into him. But I'm coping with it."

"Hiding in closets is your coping strategy?"

A smile twitched the corner of her mouth. "Well, it's one method." God, she must have looked like a complete idiot! And the colonel must have taken it pretty seriously to be forcing her to talk to him like this, she realized. He didn't exactly welcome conversations about emotions – his own or anyone else's – with open arms and a smile on his face. "Okay, I might not be coping so well," she admitted. "But I mean, I didn't even know he was in the country, never mind on my base!"

She could feel his eyes on her. "_Your_ base?"

She shrugged. "That's how it feels," she explained. "I know it's not actually my base, but... well, I was there first. Jonas..." She trailed off, reordering the crystals without consciously thinking about it. "I guess I just feel like he's invaded my space. The SGC is really important to me. More so than anything else I've done – any other posting I've had." She glanced at him, and he nodded slowly. She turned back to the crystals. "I don't want to mess it up – I don't want my personal life, my feelings, to get in the way of my work," she said, and felt her cheeks go pink. She couldn't look at the colonel. A thoughtful silence was emanating from him. And suddenly she was thinking not about Jonas, but about another military man, currently much closer. They'd been crazy golfing. They'd been for a picnic in the park. They'd been bowling. They'd been out to a couple of restaurants, and several bars. She was, in fact, dating Jack O'Neill.

Ack!

Actually, seeing as Teal'c and Daniel came along every single time, too, perhaps she was dating all of them... Or maybe SG-1 was dating itself... Or maybe it was Jack who was dating the three of them? Heh.

Ignoring the fact that he was her CO (and oh, what a bad idea _that_ was, but she kept doing it nevertheless), he was also entirely the sort of man she ought to avoid. She had a long, unhappy history with that sort of man – witness Jonas, a fully paid-up member of the 'lunatic fringe', as her dad had succinctly termed them. Daniel and Teal'c, now, were both prime examples of the sort of men she ought to be attracted to, but somehow wasn't: thoughtful, intelligent, emotionally mature men – responsible adults, not bad boys who were off-limits anyhow.

Okay, okay, maybe it wasn't that bad. Not every ex-Special Ops guy was certifiable. And it wasn't as if she was actually going out with him. Admittedly, it bore a startling resemblance to dating, but it wasn't _really_ dating, was it? Not if other people came along every time (chaperones?). Not if they never kissed (that damn virus a month ago?). Not if they never acknowledged their mutual attraction (Valentine's cards? flowers?).

Not if they never got caught.

"So, this guy," he said, carefully, interrupting her musings, "he makes you act irrationally."

"Yeah."

"Your... feelings, they get in the way of your work," he said, in a significant tone. "And you don't want that."

"Mm-hmm." Suddenly, her ability to talk had vanished.

"Oh." So had his, it seemed. The silence stretched out uncomfortably. "So, uh... What are we talking about, exactly?"

"Jonas," she said, firmly.

"Just Jonas?"

"Yes."

"Not... anyone else? You don't think that your... feelings... for anyone else might... interfere with your work?"

Sam gave this her careful consideration. Now was the time to speak up, obviously. To stop this before they both got in too deep. She knew what she should say. She opened her mouth. "No," she said. "I don't think so." Damn. That hadn't been what she'd meant to say at _all_.

There was a long silence. "No?"

"No."

"Because there aren't any feelings?" He sounded... disappointed?

She gave him a glance. "No," she confessed.

He frowned in confusion. "No? No there aren't any feelings, or no, there are?"

"The, uh... the second option."

It was at this point that she discovered Jonas wasn't the only one who could give her a slow smile that melted her insides. Only the colonel's version was worse – or better: it was accompanied by a long, lingering, predatory look – a look that she could physically feel as his chocolate-colored eyes traveled from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and then back up to meet her wide-eyed stare. Oh, wow. Wow. Her synapses fused, and a blush swept over her entire body. She would bet serious money that this man could do things to her that no one else... Aaaand she dropped a big mental buffer in front of _that_ train of thought. Those were seriously bad, non-regulation things to be thinking in relation to her CO.

"Ah," was all he said. He seemed to realize that he was giving his 2IC a Look, and aimed his eyes abruptly elsewhere. "So... feelings, eh?"

"Mmf. Of... attraction," she said, feeling the need to clarify that they weren't talking about the big 'L' here – just that she found him... that he was... She glanced at him. "Strong attraction," she added, slightly more emphatically than she'd intended. It seemed to throw him nicely. His mouth opened and closed a few times, fishlike.

"Um. Uh. I mean, that is, uh, you know you're not the only one, right?"

She stared at the crystals unseeingly. "I'm not?"

"No," he said, firmly.

"Ah." Her insides did a totally non-regulation happy dance.

"So you don't think this," he gestured quickly between them, "will interfere with your – our – work?"

"No. Because I'm not – I wasn't intending to take it any further. So it won't be a problem. That is, I don't think so – but if you want to stop-"

"No!" He coughed, looking embarrassed by the fervency of his answer. "I mean, no, I think it's very important to bond... as a team."

"Yes?"

"Yes. And it's all perfectly... it's not like we're... we're only... we're not... being attracted to someone doesn't mean that..." He – very sensibly – gave up on that sentence. "So... we're-?"

"-Okay? Yes."

"And we can still-?"

"-Go on team bonding outings? Yes."

"So long as it doesn't -?"

"-Interfere with our work? Yes."

He didn't seem to mind that she was finishing all his sentences. "Good." He clapped his hands together, and rubbed them. "Glad we've got that clarified, then. You know me – I'm all in favor of clarity."

"Yes, sir."

He stood up quickly. "So, uh, how long for the," he waved vaguely at the DHD.

Sam looked at her work. Damn, she really _was_ good at multitasking. "I think it's nearly fixed, sir. Gimme ten more minutes."

"Sweet. I'll go tell the boys the good news. Daniel's off playing with his rocks again." He became aware of how that might sound. "Uh, artifact rocks – you know." Sam grinned. "I'll just... Yeah."

He wandered off in the direction of the tumbledown buildings they'd discovered earlier. Sam realized that they'd not really finished their discussion of Jonas, and how she was dealing with his presence at the SGC. Strangely, though, the thought of encountering her ex-fiance wasn't bothering her much, any more. How peculiar.

Humming quietly to herself, Sam Carter got on with her work.


	8. Kirk Syndrome

A/N: We all know what the fishing thing is about, but has anyone guessed the true significance of the cake thing? Eighth in the increasingly inaccurately-named 'Valentines' series - which headed off AU when I wasn't looking.

* * *

The members of SG-1 sat beside the fountain, discussing the civilization they'd found on Argos, and watching the celebrations unfold around the new mother and child. The baby that Sam and Daniel had just helped to deliver was being passed from arm to arm, with everyone cooing over him. The Argosians were a friendly people. Sam watched as a young woman eyed Jack, giving him a seductive smile as she rocked the baby in her arms. Sam's eyes narrowed. Maybe a bit _too_ friendly.

"Do things feel a little... off here?" asked Jack, suspiciously.

Sam was about to agree heartily – the mother had just given birth, for heaven's sake, and she was up and around as though it had been merely a minor nuisance. Daniel butted in before she could make her observations. "Are you crazy?" he asked incredulously. "It's a paradise!"

Jack gave him a sideways look. "Sure, have an apple, what could happen?"

Sam smiled to herself. At least her commanding officer wasn't taken in by the beauty all around him. Speaking of which... the young woman slinked across the little square, headed straight for Jack. She held out a dish to him, completely ignoring the other members of the team. "I am Kynthia. Welcome to our village."

Jack smiled at her. Sam's eyes narrowed further - she was already aware of his weakness for cake. "Thank you. Jack O'Neill." He reached for a piece of cake, and bit into it. His eyes widened with pleasure.

"Is it pleasing?" asked Kynthia.

"Very," said Jack, through a mouthful. He crammed the rest of the piece into his mouth, in typical Jack O'Neill fashion, and reached for a second piece. Suddenly, either remembering the manners his mother had tried to teach him, or feeling the glare Sam was giving him, he turned to her. "Uh, you should have some," he said, his expression conciliatory.

Sam opened her mouth, but Kynthia beat her to it. "It is only for you," she told Jack, firmly.

Sam's mouth snapped shut, and she glared at the young woman. She'd been about to refuse anyway, but that was just... rude.

"Only for me?" asked Jack, weakly, and took the dish she proffered. His eyes flicked to Sam, and back to Kynthia. "Um, thanks."

Kynthia departed, and Sam huffed in annoyance.

"'It is only for you,'" Daniel teased.

"I think you have a fan, Colonel," said Sam, smiling through her teeth. Jack opened his mouth to protest.

I believe this woman wishes to spend time with O'Neill," added Teal'c. Jack shot him a glare.

"Thank you, Teal'c," he grumbled. He shrugged apologetically at Sam, who rolled her eyes, and forgave him. She couldn't really blame the girl. He _was_ very attractive, after all. Kynthia had good taste.

And a really stupid name.

Sam listened with half an ear whilst Daniel expounded on the archaeological attractions, watching disbelievingly as the colonel rapidly scarfed the entire cake. Anyone would think he was starved at home. Then he started to admire his reflection in the dish. Sam frowned as he leaned heavily against her. He was acting odd, all of a sudden...

"These people are obviously not laborers," Teal'c was saying. "I must wonder why a Goa'uld would bring them to this planet. Perhaps it was a good Goa'uld."

Jack burst out laughing, and the rest of SG-1 stared incredulously at him. "Right!" he said, through the last mouthful of cake. "Like there is such a thing!"

Teal'c looked hurt. "I did not intend for my statement to be humorous," he said, somewhat irritably.

Jack chuckled – drunkenly? Sam was starting to get a bad feeling about this. "Trust me, it wasn't," he said. There was a definite slur to his words by now. He leaned more heavily against Sam, and turned to look at her. His eyes widened, and he smirked at her. "Hey, Sam," he said, his breath warm and cake-scented against her cheek. "Wanna go somewhere and... fraternize?" He waggled his eyebrows at her. Sam's jaw dropped, and she stared at him in shock.

"Uh, Jack..." said Daniel, realizing something was seriously up with their fearless leader. "You okay?"

Jack ignored him. "Whaddya say, Cap'n Sam?" He leaned closer, and Sam grabbed his arms in alarm, pushing him back before he could kiss her.

She refused to acknowledge the tiny part of her that said 'Yes!' Now was not the time - dammit.

"He's been drugged, Daniel," she snapped. "Probably that damn cake. Teal'c, gimme a hand." The colonel was being... very persistent.

Before Teal'c could move, two women in diaphanous robes had slipped amongst the team, and tried to grab the colonel. His drunken brown eyes turned to them. "Hey, girls..." he slurred. Daniel stepped between them and Jack.

"Uh, ladies, may I have a word?" he asked, holding out his hands and talking fast but politely. "Um, my friend here seems to be acting oddly, or more oddly than usual, which is... unusual, and I was wondering if there is some special ingredient or significance to the cake that your friend, uh, Kynthia, gave him?"

The two women stopped, baffled. "Do you not know of the Marriage Cake?" asked one of them, blankly. Daniel sucked in a breath, and Sam and Teal'c exchanged wide-eyed looks over the colonel's head.

"_M-marriage_ Cake?"

"Screw that!" said Sam, stridently. "Teal'c, take – sir, get off!" If she'd given it a thought – which officially she was denying – she would have thought that having him try to kiss her would have been quite an enjoyable experience. Not so much, it turned out. "Teal'c, take the colonel back to the Gate. We're getting him back to the infirmary, right now."

The colonel was trying to make it known that he didn't want to go home. He was having a good time right here, thank you very much. Sam studiously ignored him.

By this time, Kynthia had arrived, in a ludicrous get-up with extended butterfly wings on sticks. Sam shot her a death glare, but stayed silent, leaving Daniel to do the talking. Her diplomatic skills probably wouldn't be quite so... diplomatic, at the moment. "What is the problem?" inquired Kynthia. "Why will these people not allow my husband to come to me?"

Daniel took off his glasses and pinched his nose, closing his eyes. It was a move he tended to use when Jack was being particularly obtuse, and Sam had mentally labeled it 'Stressed Academic'. "Uh, Kynthia... why did you give Jack the Marriage Cake?"

Kynthia looked baffled. "Because I wished to marry him," she said, simply. She seemed to think that was explanation enough. "Why will your friends not release him?"

"Uh, well, Kynthia, where we come from, the customs for marriages are a little different," Daniel equivocated. "People take time to get to know one another... usually... and marriage is a big responsibility. My friend didn't understand that by accepting this cake he would be," he swallowed, "marrying you. We need to get him back to our world for a while, whilst we sort out this... mess."

Kynthia's butterfly wings had drooped. "He did not wish to marry me?" she whispered, tearfully.

"I'm sorry, Kynthia," said Daniel, gently. Apparently he didn't want to upset her. Sam wasn't feeling so generous, herself. Teal'c had twisted the colonel's arms behind his back in order to get him to keep his hands off his 2IC. "Jack didn't understand the customs of your people. He had no intention of hurting your feelings."

Kynthia burst into tears, and Daniel winced. She turned and fled for the nearest hut, closely followed by her two assistants. Daniel sighed, and turned back to Jack, who was eyeing Sam with an openly lascivious expression. "How to win friends and influence people, the Jack O'Neill way," he remarked.

"Captain Carter," said Teal'c, as he struggled with the uncooperative colonel, "perhaps it would not be a good idea to return O'Neill to the SGC in this state."

The colonel mumbled something, from which Sam only caught the words "595" and "mole". She felt herself go pale. Why, oh, why must he always bring that mission up? He was obsessed! "You might be right," she agreed, fervently, imagining the scene in the Gateroom. "But we don't know how long he'll be like this."

Daniel looked around, and caught sight of Alekos. He waved the man over. Alekos came, eager to help his new-found friends. "Is there something wrong?"

"Alekos," said Daniel, "this, uh, Marriage Cake – how long do the, um, the..." he glanced sideways at Jack, "the symptoms last?"

Alekos looked surprised. "An hour or so," he said, and SG-1 breathed a collective sigh of relief. "Is there a problem? Will he not be going to the marriage bed with Kynthia?"

The colonel's head swiveled sharply at that. "Kynthia? Pah," he slurred. "Goin' with Sam. Ain't that right, babydoll? Let us eat cake!"

_Babydoll_? "Colonel, shut _up_!" said Sam through her teeth. She resisted the impulse to kick him in the shins.

"No," said Daniel, quickly and definitely. "He won't be going with Kynthia. Or - or Sam. Um, it was an unfortunate mix-up – Jack didn't understand the significance of the cake. He thought it was just a... snack."

Alekos raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I am sorry," he said, sincerely. "I would have liked to have closer links between our peoples."

"Uh, yeah," said Daniel, vaguely. "Anyway, we'll just be," he waved back towards the temple, "going. For a while."

"We'll stay around the temple until this wears off," said Sam, decisively. "That way, if there's any further problems with the colonel, we can zip straight back to the infirmary. We'll be back later, Alekos."

Alekos looked dubiously at the sun, now low in the sky, but shrugged good-naturedly. "As you wish," was all he said.

* * *

When the colonel finally sobered up, his reaction was all they could have wanted. "_MARRIAGE CAKE_?"

They had left him to sleep it off in an alcove of the temple for a couple of hours, after ensuring he couldn't do any harm. "Yes," said Daniel, sounding distinctly gleeful. "Apparently Kynthia is the second Mrs. O'Neill."

Jack glared at his team. "_Please_ tell me you're joking." They were openly smirking at him by now. "Oh, for cryin' out loud! Who gets married by cake?"

"That would be you, sir," said Sam, dryly. He shot her a glare. "Apparently it was drugged."

"Yeah, I figured _that_ out," grumbled the colonel.

"With an aphrodisiac," added Teal'c, for good measure.

"Actually, if you think about it, there are a lot of religious ceremonies on Earth that are celebrated with food or drink," said Daniel. He was finding the Argosian culture fascinating – naturally. "I mean, think of the - the Eucharist, for inst-"

Jack's ire rose, and he interrupted what promised to be a lengthy monologue. "This is your fault!" he yelled at Daniel.

"Me! What did I do?"

"You didn't stop me!" His own loudness made him wince, and he slumped back down. "Oy, what a hangover." Sam cut through the plastic bindings on his wrist with her knife, allowing him to put his hands over his face. "Gah... I was really hoping not to have to do the divorce thing again. It's just not as fun as you might think." Then he froze, hands still over his face. "What else did I do?" he asked, his voice muffled but the quiet panic still evident. Sam and Daniel exchanged looks, silently debating whether to tease him any more. Jack took their silence badly, and sat up quickly, looking around as if to find the evidence. "Why were my hands tied?" He looked down. "Why are my legs tied?" he asked, voice rising slightly.

Sam sliced through the bonds holding his ankles together, and Daniel and Teal'c took the opportunity to scamper, leaving her to answer the colonel's questions. Sam glared at their retreating back. "Chickens!" she yelled after them. She turned back in time to catch his wince. "Oops," she said – but couldn't help feeling he deserved it, at least a little. She held out a canteen. He didn't take it, staring at her and waiting for her answer. "You were a little... unruly," she explained delicately. "The ties were just easier. We figured you'd rather be safe than... horribly embarrassed." Although that was probably a given, anyhow, what with the new wife and all. Hammond was going to have a fit.

He stared silently at her for a long, thoughtful moment. "I don't remember much," he said slowly, "but I do remember feeling very..." He stopped abruptly, and blushed. So did Sam.

"It was like dealing with a drunk," she assured him. "Nothing terrible." She grinned at him. "You were just... friendly. Very, very, _very_ friendly... babydoll." Jack groaned, and dropped his head on his knees, cursing. He wrapped his arms around his head. Sam patted his shoulder consolingly. "At least you didn't go off with that woman."

Jack peered out from the shelter of this arms. "I hardly even remember her," he confessed. "Was she... did she... _try_ anything? I have this memory of a kind of floaty dress thing with... really long arms. Or was that a hallucination?"

"That was real enough," said Sam, grimly. "She tried to come and claim her new husband." Jack grimaced. "Daniel headed her off at the pass."

"Thank god."

"Mmm," agreed Sam. "You didn't seem interested in her, anyhow."

The colonel's dark eyes studied her. "No," he said, eventually. "That I remember. I wasn't interested in going off with _her_."

Sam hoped she wasn't blushing as much as she suspected. From the emphasis, she knew he'd recalled who he had been interested in 'going off' with. Typical. Well, thank god they had some lovely alien drugs they could blame it on. She hadn't lied on report yet - not even about that humiliating time that she'd drunk the stuff that made her take off all her clothes, or their moment in the locker room when she'd caught the Touched virus - and didn't want to start now. "I'll make you a deal, sir," she offered. "I'll forget Argos if you'll forget P3X 595." He buried his head again, gave a pitiful groan, and attempted to curl up into a small, hungover ball of embarrassment. She set the canteen down beside him, and rose to her feet. "We'll be by the statue," she said. "The sun has set, but Daniel was hoping to head back to town, to talk to Alekos a bit more. If that's okay with you, sir?"

Jack waved a hand at her to leave him alone. But his voice called out plaintively as she left the alcove.

"Tell Daniel to bring me back some Divorce Doughnuts."

* * *

A couple of days later and they were home, having solved the riddle of the idyllic Argosian existence. "They're kinda like mayflies," Jack summed up in the debrief. Everyone gave him a funny look. "What? They are."

"Do we expect any side-effects from the drug you were given?" asked General Hammond.

Jack shook his head, looking pained. "No, sir."

"It was a fairly weak recreational drug," said Daniel, going into lecture mode. "An aphrodisiac, used by the Argosians to celebrate weddings – with a very short-term effect. The Argosians view the time spent under the drug's influence as sort of the - the honeymoon period, if you will. Much of the Argosian way of life, in fact, is built around the short-term. Now we've destroyed the transmitter that controls the nanites, it'll be a big change for them. They'll have to deal with the responsibilities of a much longer lifespan – their whole way of life will have to change. But now they literally have a whole world of opportunities open to them."

Hammond nodded. "And the colonel's wife?"

Sam hoped her wince went unnoticed. It probably did, because everyone turned to look at the colonel - who scowled.

"Uh, we're actually okay on that score," said Daniel, brightly. "As the marriage was... unconsummated, Argosian custom and by extension Argosian law - as they have no actual written laws – say that it's annulled. In effect, the wedding never really happened."

"For which I am _truly_ thankful," said Jack.

Hammond nodded. "I imagine you are, Colonel," he said, blandly. Jack gave him a suspicious look. Sam wondered if the general was laughing at Jack. If he was, he was very good at hiding it. "Okay, people. Well done. You're dismissed."

Hammond retreated to his office. Daniel started to gather up his papers. "I'm going to go finish these translations from Pelops' temple," he said, already half distracted. "Their history must be fascinating. Teal'c, are you free to give me a hand with some of the translations?"

"I am," Teal'c nodded. Daniel was already asking him questions about the language as they headed out the door.

"I'm going to take a look at the information we gathered on the nanites, before the samples were destroyed," Sam said enthusiastically, still looking through the scans she'd brought to the debrief. "It's fascinating – the work on nanotechnology I was involved in when I was at the Pentagon never reached this level of-"

"Fun though that sounds," interrupted Jack, "I have to... go stare blankly at some reports. I'll see you later." Although he didn't grin, his eyes were twinkling mischievously when she looked up at him. "Meet you in the commissary at 1600?" he suggested. "For cake?"

"Sure, sir," she said distractedly, already going back to the nanite scans. She froze as his words registered, and stared up at his quickly-retreating back.

Cake?

Did he just...?

Naaaaaaaaah.


	9. Black… Satin… Underwear

A/N: This is the 9th in the 'Valentines' series, set Season One, but AU. 

They wore Dress Blues for a briefing in the very first episode. I haven't checked when they stopped doing that – it was probably straight away - but for the convenience of this story, I'm pretending it went on for a little while. It's not important, I just... liked it that way.

And I thought I'd mention that I wrote the majority of this before Annerb posted the wonderful, fantastic chapter 16 of 'String Theory', which blew my little gun-range scenario totally out of the water. But it was too much part of the story to change by then. Ah well. (And if you've not read 'String Theory', go read it! Now! Kree! It's fabulous!)

Lastly, me know nothing about shooting guns, except what I've seen on film / TV, and what I've researched on the 'Net. So, sorry if it's a little screwy in that area.

_edit:_ Argh. Originally said 'suspenders' where it should say 'garter' - it's a Britishism, I didn't realise that in the US that means what we Brits call braces... Two nations separated by a common language. Really should have sent this to my beta first. D'oh.

* * *

Jack didn't 'do' gazing, so he wasn't gazing at Sam. But he would admit to... watching closely. If anyone asked, he was going to claim interest in a subordinate in whose well-being and development he had every right to be involved.

She was loading the magazine by hand, strength and grace in her long, slim fingers. Every movement was precise and swift. She looked... well, 'perfect' was the word that sprang immediately to mind – an odd, cold sort of perfection in her Dress Blues and flawless make-up, softened only by the fact that she'd undone the restrictive jacket. Jack kept meaning to speak to Hammond about relaxing the dress code for briefings, but then he'd see Sam dressed to the nines, and just... forget.

Aside from her obvious beauty, there was a lot he admired about the young captain. She was blindingly intelligent – he'd happily claim that his 2IC was smarter than anyone else on the base. Somehow, she also managed to be a damn good soldier, a fast and cunning fighter, and a marksman to rival him – and he had no false modesty about his own abilities. She would make a good Major someday soon – he'd already begun tentative discussions with Hammond about that, double-checking himself for scrupulous fairness all the way. He had no doubt she could and would progress further up that ladder, given time and some command experience. She was so very young. Much younger than him, which he refused to find depressing on the grounds that he had no legitimate reason to care about the difference in their ages.

He wasn't going to think about the illegitimate reasons.

Sam hefted the gun to her shoulder, sighting down the long barrel. She tilted her head slightly, squinted, slowed her breathing, and relaxed her stance, dropping her shoulders. She stilled, but didn't hold her breath. Squeezed the trigger.

The shot slammed out of the gun, the explosive force of the round rocking her back slightly, but she held position and refocused her aim, took a second shot, and then a third. Then, satisfied with what she saw, she lifted her head and lowered the weapon. Jack didn't need to look at the target to know she'd hit it exactly where she wanted. It was all there in her face.

"Are you trying to unnerve me?" she asked, without looking at him.

Jack blinked. "I'm sorry?"

She glanced at him, and her chin tilted up challengingly. "You've been staring at me the whole time. Did you really think I'd get flustered that easily?"

He noted the lack of her usual 'sir'. She was in a mood to tangle. He'd not experienced that often from her, subsumed as it was beneath her 'perfect officer' image – but lately she'd been allowing her inner fire to flare up in his presence, and – very occasionally – in his direction. She was more confident at showing that side of herself to her fellow scientists, but it was rare that she kicked against her military superiors. She was learning, he liked to think, from his attitude towards his own superiors. She was learning to take command.

"Everyone has their weak spots," was all he said, however.

"Well, being under scrutiny isn't one of mine." She nodded at the target, and he finally turned to look at it as she pressed the button that drew the paper closer. She took it down, and held it up to the light.

"Apparently not," he said, admiringly. Three shots, neatly grouped at the centre of the target. Sam Carter was always a perfectionist. He gave her a sideways glance. Strong, intelligent, beautiful... lethal.

Yowza.

Okay, this was way too dangerous to be thinking. He took up his own gun, trying to focus on something neutral: the target ahead.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"What's your Achilles' Heel?"

He allowed himself a brief, humorless smile. He'd been famed, at the Academy, for not allowing anything to distract him from his mission, his target. Loud noises, insults, touching – anything his fellow students had thought of, he'd tuned out. "That's for me to know, Captain," he said. He glanced at her, and saw to his discomfort that she'd narrowed her eyes, and was regarding him with all the cold thoughtfulness she gave to a new piece of alien technology.

He really, really hoped she never turned to the Dark Side. They'd all be doomed.

She leaned back casually against the wall, and crossed her legs at the ankle. Involuntarily, his eyes drifted down to those long legs, visible under her Dress Blues skirt. Stockings? Dear god, perhaps there was a _garter_... He dragged his inappropriate gaze up quickly, and realized he'd been caught. For a second, he wondered if she was going to kick his ass. Then she gave him an almost-smile, her eyes glinting devilishly.

"Bet I can distract you."

Jack tipped an eyebrow at her. "Mom always told me not to let pride make my promises," he told her. She smiled briefly, and stayed silent.

He wasn't an insecure man. He had a lifetime of training and of experience to call upon, and he'd always been naturally confident – "independent and self-assured," his school reports had read, meaning "we can't get him to do a damn thing he doesn't want to do." But there was something about that silent, steady regard that worried him.

A big part of him was hoping she planned to play dirty.

"Three rounds," she said at last. "In the centre circle. If you lose..." She trailed off, contemplating possible punishments. It was damn sexy.

"I'll cook you dinner." Apparently, the part of his brain that did care about things like the difference in their ages had temporarily gained control of his tongue. "Tonight." And it wasn't letting go. Fortunately, it hadn't come out with some of the more... wildly inappropriate ideas for forfeits that had flashed luridly across his inner movie screen. It seemed he hadn't quite lost his last shreds of common sense where she was concerned.

Yet, anyway.

She looked surprised, but she'd never backed down from a dare, to his sure and certain knowledge. "Okay," she said. "And if you win, I'll cook you dinner."

"If I _win_?"

Her eyes flashed – in the metaphorical, not the Goa'uld, sense. "I can cook some things," she said, irritably. "I make a mean soufflé." At his look, she shrugged. "It was a challenge," she explained, succinctly.

He looked at her, carefully concealing his surprise. She was definitely more relaxed around him these days – noticeably so. Ever since the cake incident on Argos, in fact. He'd expected the opposite: he'd thought, as he struggled with the returning memories and the godawful post-drug hangover, that his clearly unprofessional attitude and conduct towards her would have been too much, and sent her running in the opposite direction. He had been under the influence of an aphrodisiac, of course, and that was as good an excuse as any to ignore anything he'd said or done - but it wasn't like he'd been trying to kiss Teal'c, or Daniel, or whatsername, the girl he'd accidentally married.

But she most definitely had not run. Somehow, his enforced loss of inhibitions and consequent behavior had upped the ante. She no longer just looked through her eyelashes, concealed smiles at his lame-ass jokes, and sat next to him at any given opportunity (don't think he hadn't noticed). Oh, no. She was still meticulously careful – they both were – around other SGC personnel, but when they were out of range of military eyes and cameras, on missions or off-base, she'd started seriously flirting with him. And, god help him, he loved it. Agreeing to have dinner, alone, just the two of them, at one of their houses, though... Well.

They had come to a silent agreement to keep it relatively toned-down around Teal'c and Daniel, but it was an open secret on the team. There was a certain amount of 'Well, I'm going to go looking at those rocks/hieroglyphs/artifacts/ancient whatevers - Teal'c, you coming?' going on. Although it was meant in the kindest way, it was the one aspect of this situation that made Jack uneasy. He'd resolved to deal with it as soon as possible – he didn't want the team to suffer, or – god forbid – be endangered by this... whatever it was called.

He was staring, he realized. And she was looking smug. She so thought she was going to win this. Privately, he admitted to himself that, if anyone was going to distract him, it'd be Sam Carter. She had got that whole 'genius' thing going, after all.

"I've never tried soufflé," he remarked, casually. "I'll enjoy that."

"You'd better not be planning to barbeque," she retorted. "I've seen the cooking equipment in your kitchen, so I'm sure you can do better."

He grimaced. Busted. It was true: he could cook. It was all Sara's fault. She'd refused to be the only one responsible for family meals when he was home and perfectly capable of wielding a spatula. He still only cooked a few things, tending towards simple, filling, and involving beer in some capacity, but he prided himself on the fact that the things he did, he did well. "I guess you'll never know."

She stayed silent. When he looked her way, she was grinning slightly. "You're all talk," she said softly, adding an insubordinately late, "sir."

This was dangerous territory. A date by any other name was still as sweet – and as court-martiallable. Even if nothing happened – and nothing was going to happen, he told himself sternly – Hammond wouldn't be pleased, if he found out. But, right now, he didn't really give a damn.

"Game on, Sam."

Jack took a comfortable stance and leveled his gun at the target in front of him. Distracting though his 2IC certainly was, she hadn't seemed to grasp that Jack worked better under pressure. It made his mind come alive – every thought seemed sharper, more focused – it was the main reason for his not-so-illustrious career in Black Ops. He was confident that, no matter what she did, it would only make him focus harder on winning this competition.

He sighted down the gun, tilting his head slightly, aware but paying no attention as Sam moved closer. She was practically leaning into his side, not actually touching – shoving him as he shot would be an unsportsmanlike way of winning, and Sam didn't do unsportsmanlike. She was tall, her nose on a level with his chin, and a fleeting picture of what it would be like to have her nuzzling closer zipped through his head.

He narrowed his eyes, and took a shot. Centre. She'd have to do better than snuggling.

He refocused. Sam leaned against him, and he braced himself against her slight weight. Again, she wasn't jostling him – simply trying to ruin his shot through other means. He could smell her, now; an alluring scent made up of some sort of fresh, slightly apple-y perfume, soap, gun oil, and warm Carter skin. She smelled delicious. He could feel her breath brush his ear. She'd probably taste fantastic...

He realized he'd become distracted, and ruthlessly refocused. Two more to go. Ignoring the warm, soft, scented woman pressed into his side, he took another shot. Dead centre, closer than before. Damn, he was good.

Sam shifted slightly, and he heard the rasp of her stockings. He swallowed, and refocused his aim. One shot to win. She lifted up slightly, and he braced himself mentally for a kiss on the cheek, or something along those lines – simultaneously determined to remember every sensation, and determined not to let it distract him. She leaned into his ear. Jack's finger tightened on the trigger. And she whispered three small words.

Jack fired.

Jack cursed.

His eyes had defocused momentarily when she spoke, and his gun arm had twitched. He hadn't been ready, and the shot was wide of the target by a good couple of inches. She stepped away, and he turned to glare at her.

"That wasn't fair!"

She grinned smugly. "I said I'd distract you," she countered. "You lost, fair and square."

His eyes drifted downwards speculatively. Had she been telling the truth? Then he realized that he was doing it again, dammit, and dragged his gaze up to her face. Damn, she was dangerous. Sam just looked more smug.

Well, hell. Looked like he'd be cooking dinner for her, after all.

This should be interesting.

* * *

TBC...

p.s. Check the title of this chapter... ;)


	10. Slow Evolution

A/N: Me Bad Writer. I haven't written this in AGES. I'm so sorry to everyone who wanted to know what happened next. (This is why I rarely post WIPs.) I promise I'll try to post the next chapter a lot quicker. 

This one follows directly on from the previous one - and if anyone is still wondering what Three Little Words Sam said in that one, the clue was in the title. ;-)

With much thanks and smooches to vickyocean and surrealphantast, for their help with making the military stuff make sense. (And hello to Lennie, if you're still reading!)

---

If it had been any other couple, Daniel would have left them to what was obviously a private moment. But this wasn't a couple - this was a colonel and his subordinate. So he knocked hollowly on the wooden wall of the gun range booth, and they both turned, looking startled. Neither officer had heard his approach, being as they were far too absorbed in staring at one another.

Not a couple. Yeah, right.

"Daniel, hi," Sam greeted him, slightly over-enthusiastically, and then fell awkwardly silent. If Daniel hadn't known better, he might have suspected that they'd been talking about him - it was an oh-shit-we'd-better-shut-up-now sort of a silence.

Jack seemed even more distracted. After briefly acknowledging Daniel's presence, his eyes strayed back to Sam, but it seemed they couldn't decide where to stop, ticking back and forth from her face to - erm - an area slightly lower.

"Jack!" Daniel reprimanded, sharply.

Jack's eyes snapped front and center and his cheeks pinked slightly. "What?!"

Geez, defensive much? "Are you-" staring at Sam's chest? Daniel found he just couldn't ask that. He took pity. "Not interrupting anything, am I?" Well, maybe not 'took pity', exactly...

"_No_," said Jack, glaring at him. "We were getting in some target practice."

"Oh, right, is that the story?" said Daniel, in breezy disbelief. "Well, anyway, that's not important. I wanted to talk to you about the Heliopolis... you know, Ernest's planet. We really need to go there."

Jack and Sam exchanged looks - and there was just enough 'how do we talk him down?' about it to put Daniel's back up.

"Daniel," Sam began, "I consider this find as important as you do, but you know we haven't got the technology to reach it without a Stargate. And as far as we can tell, that fell through into the sea and was destroyed."

"I know you want to go there, too," said Daniel, feeling a pang of irrational guilt that he'd at least gotten to spend some time with Ernest's discovery, knowing how much Sam must have itched to explore its mysteries. Perhaps she might even have found a way to detach the important parts and bring them home. But it wasn't Daniel's way to dwell on aspects of a problem that he couldn't change, when, if he came at it from a different angle, he might find a solution. "And I know it's too far away for us to reach right now - but we have to think about this more constructively, and put a solution to General Hammond. Maybe he can make it a - a mission objective, or something. After all, we have the co-ordinates, right?" Sam nodded, watching him thoughtfully. "And we know there are ships out there that could make that journey, right?" Sam raised her eyebrows.

"Goa'uld ships," she pointed out, ever practical.

"But the technology exists," insisted Daniel. "And it's not inconceivable that we might get our hands on some of it - either by acquiring a whole ship, or by getting access to enough information about the technology in order to build our own version. We need to make that a priority."

"Daniel-" Jack paused, and Daniel knew he was mustering counter-arguments, and for a moment felt a flash of irritation that Jack was always - _always_ - so negative. But that was unfair, he reminded himself. Jack was doing what he was good at: ruthlessly pointing out the flaws in any plan, refusing to go off on a mission with his shoelaces untied and half his pack forgotten - metaphorically speaking. And Daniel knew that Jack did this, not out of fear, but because the universe was a dangerous place, and he wouldn't hazard his friends and colleagues unless there was a very good reason to do so. "This guy Thor is gonna contact us sometime, right? And it's his people who put together the whole," Jack waved a hand over his head, "floating balls display." Sam shot him a sideways look. "So why not wait until we can speak to the source? What's the rush? I mean, not that I don't think that this meaning of life stuff is all very important, but don't we have more pressing things to think about?" _Trying to find your wife, for example_, Jack didn't say. Daniel heard it anyway.

"Jack, Thor may or may not contact us, but the Asgard obviously have a little more - a little more long-term way of looking at things. I mean, think of the Nox - some of their writing was in that chamber, and they consider us to be a very young species. Species, Jack. They want us to _evolve_ a little more before they'll talk to us like grown-ups, and that's just not soon enough!"

Jack stepped quickly towards him, looking startled at the outburst. He put a steadying hand on Daniel's shoulder. "Daniel... What's this really about?"

Daniel honestly hadn't realized that his drive to get to Heliopolis had been about anything, really, other than his normal thirst for knowledge. He surprised even himself when he continued, the words wrung from him. "The Asgard know how to remove a symbiote, Jack," he said, desperately. "And they know how to fight the Goa'uld. I have to find out how they do it. If we get their attention - if we can learn enough to gain their respect, maybe they'll _help_."

Sha're had been gone now for nearly nine months. And Daniel didn't have to be told that the chances of getting her back now, whole and healthy and herself, were infinitesimally small. But he'd been given a glimpse of heaven, when they found out what Thor's Hammer did, and he hadn't realized how vividly the rekindled desire to find her again was blazing. The smallest chance...

Jack moved his hand to the back of Daniel's neck. "I'll talk to Hammond about it," he promised, gently. "I don't know if he'll go for it - the risk involved in getting hold of a ship is a bit beyond SGC parameters at the moment, but that may change. And if we ever hear of a good opportunity, I swear to you we'll go for it."

Daniel bowed his head, weighed down by his friend's hand. "Thanks, Jack," he said, softly.

Jack patted his shoulder, and with a sudden, subtle shift in body language, became awkward, I-don't-deal-with-this-emotional-crap Colonel O'Neill again. "Now, was there anything else?"

"No. Oh, yes, actually - Hammond wanted to see you, Jack." Two pairs of eyes, in synchronized paranoia, flew to the security camera on the wall. "I doubt that's the reason," added Daniel, amused.

Sam shook her head at herself. "It doesn't have sound, anyhow," she muttered. Then glanced at Daniel, and looked thoroughly embarrassed.

"I'd better go," said Jack. "Sam, will you-?" He waved at the guns.

"Yes, sir," said Sam, briskly, professionally.

Jack nodded. His eyes flicked to Daniel, back to Sam, then to Daniel, then to the floor. "See you later," he told the floor, and departed quickly.

Sam glanced warily at Daniel, and turned around, ostensibly to unload and sort the various weaponry that she and Jack had brought up there. Daniel rather thought that it was a convenient excuse to avoid his eyes. He leaned against the low shelf that ran around the inside of the booth, and watched her for a moment. He felt like he'd gotten something off his chest, something he hadn't been aware he was carrying, and was happy to focus on someone else's problems for a while.

He, personally, thought they were being idiots about this whole situation. Of course the regulations said they couldn't start a relationship, and - despite what Jack might think - Daniel understood and approved of the reasons those regulations had been put in place. But he didn't agree that they applied no matter what.

Daniel saw the world in shades of grey. Yes, the regulations forbidding relationships between military personnel were sensible, reasonable - completely understandable. But he couldn't see why anyone as intelligent as Sam and - when he stopped acting like an ass for a moment - Jack should feel that they had to follow those regulations so dogmatically. They acted with free will and self-determinism when it came to improvising off-world, and dealing with unexpected situations. It was one of the things that made them both so suitable for working at the SGC, dealing with situations never envisioned by whoever wrote the rulebook. So why were they still acting as though the normal rules still applied? Hadn't they realized what an - an extraordinary and unpredictable universe they had stepped into?

Besides, the real issue as far as Daniel was concerned was that, no matter what their personal relationship was or wasn't, Sam and Jack couldn't regulate their feelings - and it was the feelings that would ultimately cause problems, if problems were to be caused. Whether they were actually in a relationship or not, the fact that they felt something 'inappropriate' for one another would always be a part of their decision-making, whether they or the Air Force liked it or not. It didn't mean that their decisions would be any the worse. Daniel was inclined to believe that real, human emotions were a thing to be celebrated, and that the military would be a lot healthier if it could admit to feeling a few more of them. If only Jack, Sam, and the Air Force regulations manual could be brought to see that.

Well, he didn't hold out much hope for his ability to get Air Force regulations changed, but he could definitely work on Jack and Sam.

"Sam-"

"Daniel, _don't_." Sam turned quickly, her eyes wide. "Whatever you're about to say, just - please don't." Daniel paused, his mouth open. "I don't think you fully understand the situation."

Daniel closed his mouth and looked at her. "I don't, huh?" He pursed his lips, thinking, wondering what she thought he thought, and whether she'd actually examined her own feelings closely enough to know, or if he was making assumptions... "So you want to explain it to me, then?" Sam glanced at him, frowning irritably. "Hey, I don't have the right to pry, I do understand that. But I... Sam, maybe I just think you might want to _talk_ about it?" He held out his hands. "If I swear not to make any judgments, or give you any advice whatsoever?" he tried, cajolingly.

Sam smiled, reluctantly. "Sweet-talker," she said, softly. She checked her watch. "Okay. But not now, and not here. Coffee after work?"

"You really need to ask?"

---

"Okay, tell me about it."

Sam glanced at him, and then down at her cup. "Well, it's hot," she began. Daniel's eyebrows flew up. "It's sweet, it's got a double shot of espresso-"

"Haha," said Daniel, catching on. "Evasion. That's good, Sam. Very mature." She kicked him under the table. "Ow."

"Why do you want to know?" Sam countered.

"Because I care about you both. Because I'd like to know what effect this might have on our jobs." She glanced up at him. "Because I'm nosy."

Sam grinned. "Okay, because you're nosy," she conceded. "Yes, I am... attracted to the Colonel. And I think he's attracted to me-"

"You _think_?"

"Shut up, Daniel." But the look in her eyes was pleased. "And yes, we're sort of... flirting, I guess. But that doesn't mean it's going to go anywhere." She looked up. "Not yet, anyhow. This job is too important to me. And I think the Colonel would say the same. We might flirt, but nothing's going to happen until this assignment ends."

"Until what?" asked Daniel, startled.

"Until the Colonel and I have to move on." She raised her eyebrows at his surprised expression. "Daniel, Air Force assignments don't last forever. Three or four years at the most, and we've been a team for coming up on a year. There's a good chance that, in two or three years time, I'll get re-assed to Area 51 - I'm pretty much the most qualified person on Earth to work on all the technology we've brought back. What I hope they'll do, though, is give me my own command and let me stay at the SGC, lead my own team through the Gate." Daniel continued to stare at her, mouth open slightly. She smiled, wryly. "Don't get me wrong, I love being on SG-1. It's the best team I've ever worked with. But it's not the final phase of my career." She put her hand on his. "If you're worried, the rules are different for civilians. I don't know what will happen with your role, if anything, but I don't imagine the Air Force will ever want to lose your expertise. Teal'c... well, I don't know what will happen with him, either, but he's a unique case. The Air Force won't want to lose him any more than they do you, I am sure of that. I think they'd want to keep both of you going on missions for as long as you're willing."

Daniel found his voice at last. "And - and Jack?"

She shrugged. "I don't know exactly. He might stay on SG-1 a bit longer, but they're not going to keep sending him out into the field forever. He might get promoted, he might get moved to the Academy, he might retire again. It also depends on what happens with the program. I've heard talk of a possible..." she glanced around, "overseas command," she said, smoothly. "You know - a base. _Abroad_. The Colonel would definitely be in the running for that. If he did get it, he might ask you and Teal'c to go with him." She spread her hands. "I don't know. But in two years - three, tops - it's all going to change. And then... well, we'll see."

"I... Sam, that's... um." Daniel sat back, and rubbed his forehead. "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted.

She smiled at him. "I'm more cautious about getting to know people since... you know." Her smile faded, and she rubbed a finger restlessly through some grains of sugar on the table, and didn't say the name 'Jonas'. "That was hard, Daniel," she said, with quiet understatement. "I'd want to get to know someone better - next time. And you know the Colonel's past. If - and I stress the word '_if_', Daniel - anything's going to happen, then waiting for three years is probably best for both of us."

"Well. Sam, that's..." The first word that sprang to Daniel's mind was 'cold'. "Thought-out," he temporized.

"Augh!" Sam, unexpectedly, dropped her face to her hands and her hands to the table. "I sound like a stalker, don't I?" she asked, muffled. "If you tell anyone - even Janet! - any of this, I can and will make your life hell."

Daniel smiled. "Not a word, I swear." He frowned. "It's funny, though, how you think you can see all sides of a situation, and then find out that it's... well, very different from someone else's point of view." He gave her an evil smirk when she looked up at him. "But I see you've given it a lot of thought, huh?"

Sam groaned, hiding her face again. "Please, Daniel - please don't think that I've got it all planned out! I just mean that I'm not looking to be in a relationship with _anyone_, any time soon. I have no idea what the Colonel is thinking. Or if he's given it any thought at all, for that matter. Maybe he's just... just..."

"Having fun?" suggested Daniel.

Sam sat up, swiftly. "Do you think so?"

Daniel opened his mouth to say 'no', and then realized: he honestly had no clue. "I don't know. I don't _think_ so, but Jack is... Jack. I don't think even he knows what his motives are, half the time."

Sam huffed a laugh. "Well, that's my point exactly," she said. "Maybe by then, I'll actually understand the damn man."

Daniel rested on his elbows, lacing his fingers. "And you think you can wait until then?"

"Daniel, I'm not fourteen," said Sam, irritably. "He may be cute, but he's not irresistible!"

---

TBC... hopefully a bit sooner, this time!


End file.
